by Vella Munn
Chas used his tongue and fingertips to back up his statement with action. Michon wanted to give as much pleasure as she was receiving, but when he took her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and stroked them quickly into life, she wanted to do nothing more than lie on her back, delighting in the sensation that took her beyond the cabin.
A few minutes later Chas pulled her against him, locking them together from lips to toes. She pressed her body eagerly against his, loving the lean, strong feel of the man. Tears welled up in Michon’s eyes, drying quickly in the night air. Tonight felt so right! Did he know that her heart was as totally committed as her body?
She had no idea how much time had passed when she again became conscious of her breathing, the cold, the night sounds. She buried her naked body against Chas’s, taking warmth from him, savoring his maleness. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to say?”
“I don’t care. Chas?”
“Don’t talk.” He stopped her by placing a warm hand over her mouth. “Now it’s my turn to tell you to be quiet. I want you to spend the night here. Will you sleep with me, I mean?”
“Yes.” Yes! Did he really think she could return to her own sleeping bag after what had happened? In the morning they would talk. About love. And the tomorrows of their life.
Chapter Ten
Michon waked with her head pillowed against Chas’s arm. She lay without moving, staring at the slivers of light reaching her through their open-air shelter. It had been years since she’d spent the night sleeping on the ground, but if her body found anything to complain about, Michon was unaware of it.
The only thing she knew, the only thing she cared about, was the man sleeping beside her. Slowly, gently, Michon turned and kissed his temple, where tousled hair hid the vein beneath the tanned flesh.
Chas stirred. He sighed deeply, stretched his arms, and opened his eyes. The little-boy look of sleepy confusion left his face as he reached for her. “It wasn’t a dream. You’re here.”
“Of course. It’s a lot warmer here than it would be in my own sleeping bag,” she teased as her heart recorded the look in his deep eyes.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be there?”
“I stayed. Isn’t that enough of an answer? Do you always talk that much in the morning?” she asked.
“I don’t usually have someone to talk to. And when I do—” His mouth against hers stopped anything he might have said.
The lovemaking they shared that morning was, if possible, better than the night before. Last night Michon had felt unsure, a little afraid that something or someone would disturb them before the final, shared moments. Even with Chas’s lips on her throat she couldn’t shake off the memory of a woman who had made him a wounded member in the world of men and women.
But this morning she tossed April from her mind and surrendered to the warmth that built within her, gave herself completely and without reservation to the man who had taken over her life, her heart.
Afterward she lay unmoving as Chas dressed in the shadowy interior. Where their lovemaking might lead was something she would think about later. At present she couldn’t imagine ever asking for anything more. She watched him without shame, taking note of the corded muscles in his legs, the fine hair covering his chest, the strong line of his collarbone. “You’re quite a physical specimen,” she observed as he pulled on his shirt. “I feel sorry for all those men who dump their money in health clubs, when they could look like you just by working outdoors.”
“And you look like a lazy cat. Are you going to spend the morning there? People are going to start looking for us. And talking.”
“Let them talk. I may not move all day.”
“Is that so?” Chas stepped toward her, the challenge in his eyes. Before she could move to defend herself, he’d unzipped the sleeping bag and thrown back the covering. Michon squealed as cold air hit her naked flesh. She grabbed for the sleeping bag, but Chas wouldn’t release it. “Get dressed or freeze. It’s your choice.”
Michon struggled to a sitting position, aware that he was staring at her breasts, and relishing what she saw in his eyes. “I’ll tell the boss,” she said through teeth that were already starting to chatter.
“I’m the boss.”
Michon groaned and reached for her clothes. “That’s cruel and inhuman treatment,” she fumed in mock anger as she quickly dressed. “What have I done to deserve this?”
“I’ll think of something.” He reached over to run his fingers across her breasts as she was struggling into her bra. “I didn’t think this was going to happen, Michon. I didn’t plan it.”
“It happened,” she answered. His eyes were blacker than she’d ever seen them. The knowledge made her tremble slightly. What they were sharing was unbelievably fragile.
He straightened and turned away, so she couldn’t read the expression on his face. “We have to talk. Later.”
Michon wanted to ask him what about, but she held off. She’d seen so many of his moods in the space of a few minutes that her head was reeling from trying to fathom them. The teasing, the little-boy look when he awoke she could understand. And his gentleness. But the dark depths in his eyes a moment ago confused and worried her. They’d turned dark like that before when he told her about April. Was that who he was thinking about? She should ask him, bring her fears out into the open.
But she couldn’t. Last night and this morning had been perfect. She wasn’t going to risk shattering those memories by bringing up reality. She was falling in love. It was that simple. Could he do the same?
Chas had left by the time she was lacing up her tennis shoes. Michon took a moment to roll up the sleeping bag and run her fingers through her hair, and then stepped outside to meet the first rays of sunlight coming over the eastern Oregon mountains. She’d spent the night in Chas’s bed. No wonder the morning was glorious.
Breakfast and breaking up camp was a hurried affair that morning, since Chas had estimated it would take the group close to eight hours to reach Clarno, some thirty-three miles farther along the John Day. As Chas was explaining where the group might have to stop should the winds pick up, Shanna slipped close to Michon and gave her a quick hug. “I won’t tell anyone,” the teenager said softly. “I saw Chas and then you coming out of that old cabin. See, I was right. You two are right for each other.”
An hour ago Michon might have agreed, but Chas hadn’t looked at her, much less spoken to her since leaving her side. She had no idea what to make of that, let alone guess what he was thinking. “I hoped no one would know.”
“Why?” the teenager asked. “If I were a little older and Skip wasn’t around I’d probably have eyes for Chas, too. If he had a beard he could pass as a mountain man. What a hunk!”
Michon had to laugh. Joking with her new, younger friend was much nicer than trying to follow Chas’s moods. “I don’t think Chas thinks of himself as a hunk. You better get a move on if you want to get in a canoe with Skip. How’s your hand?”
Shanna held up the bandaged palm. “It doesn’t hurt at all. But don’t tell Skip. He’s already asked me about it, told me to make sure it doesn’t get infected. I’m going to work this little injury to my advantage if I can. I wonder if I can pull off a helpless, wounded act?” Shanna gave Michon a bold wink and then trotted off toward the river, where the boys were helping Chas load the canoes.
Michon returned to the campsite to make sure nothing had been left behind. One look in the direction of Harry’s secluded sleeping quarters told her that the older man was struggling with his air mattress.
Harry didn’t argue when Michon took over the task of deflating the mattress. “Your shoulder is still hurting you, isn’t it?” Michon shook her head. “Did you tell Chas?”
“No. And I’m not going to. A man has his pride,” Harry said firmly. “I’ve lived with this shoulder for longer than I want to think about. I can handle it.”
Michon groaned. “I’m n
ot going to argue with you, but at least travel with Chas. “He’ll do most of the work.”
Harry turned toward her. “I’d rather have you in a canoe with me.”
“Me? Harry, I have exactly one day of canoeing experience under my belt. I don’t know this river.”
“I watched you yesterday. You catch on fast. Look, there are only two rapids ahead of us today, and we might not even get as far as the Burnt Ranch Rapids. We’ll just do what Chas does, follow his lead. I have faith in you. You aren’t too tired, are you?”
Michon shook her head. She had been a little stiff when she woke up, but after moving around for an hour with the morning sun on her shoulders, she felt limber, ready for the journey. “I don’t know,” she hesitated. She wanted to share the day with Chas. But was she being selfish, robbing Harry of his pride? She thought of how fiercely her own grandfather had clung to his independence, how much he’d hated having to admit that he could no longer get around without a cane. Michon, more than her hardworking, preoccupied parents, had been aware of her grandfather’s pride. Harry’s feelings about pulling his own weight were the same. Her wanting to be with Chas wasn’t as important as Harry’s needs. Finally she nodded. “Chas might wonder, but all right.”
“That’s my girl.” Harry sighed and forced a smile. “You know, for a city girl you’re not doing half-bad. I thought you might be crabbing and complaining by now, but you’re not.”
Michon laughed. “No, I’m not, am I? I wasn’t sure when I started this trip, but I’ve got the bit between my teeth now. I’m going to see it to the end if it kills me.”
“It won’t,” Harry said as they walked down to the river. “You’re strong and young.”
“Not every woman wants to be told she’s strong, you know. That’s not the greatest compliment in the world.”
“Well, I mean it as one.”
Michon met his eyes. “Thank you. That’s how I’ll take it.”
She was feeling much more confident than she had the morning before, as she helped load Harry’s belongings into the wooden canoe she’d shared with Chas. It was a complicated emotion to put into words, but Michon was feeling better about herself than maybe she ever had in her life. Part of it, she knew, was because of what had happened in a sleeping bag. But the rest came from the knowledge that she’d met the test she’d placed before herself. She had survived—even enjoyed—a day on the John Day. She no longer felt there was a generation gap between her and the teenagers. Another day lay before her and she felt only anticipation.
She still hadn’t decided how she was going to explain to Chas her decision to travel with Harry, when the expedition leader came over. For a moment he stared silently at her belongings next to the middle-aged teacher’s. “I thought that was my canoe,” he said.
“I—I know it is,” Michon stammered. “But, well, I want to get to know Harry better. I can’t yell to him across the water. I hope you understand. I like the way the wooden canoe handles. I feel more sure of myself in it. You don’t mind do you?”
Chas’s eyes were as bottomless as they’d been earlier. “I guess not,” he said softly. “You’re sure you feel confident in the water? You don’t want to be responsible for some accident do you?”
“I’m not a child, Chas,” Michon replied more sharply than she’d intended. If only he weren’t looking at her so intently she might be able to plan her words before they tumbled out. “I think I can make that kind of decision.”
Chas shrugged. “You can make all the decisions you want. I’m not going to stand in your way.”
Before she could react, he’d walked away. Michon stared after him, feeling as if she’d been struck in the pit of her stomach. It had been perfect last night. What was wrong now?
Harry interrupted her thoughts. “I’m sorry, kid. I’m not helping things between you and Chas, am I? Maybe I should have kept my big mouth shut.”
Michon shook her head. It would be selfish to put her desires before Harry’s obvious need. He wasn’t asking that much, just a little understanding from her. “I’ll talk to him tonight,” Michon said lamely. “I don’t know what he’s upset about.”
But maybe she did. Or at least she was afraid that the problem had a name. April. Chas had been able to put his lost love out of his mind last night and early this morning. But what they’d shared in a sleeping bag was only a fantasy, a momentary interlude. Did she really believe that he’d come as far emotionally as she had? She couldn’t expect Chas to lay down the memory of the woman he’d carried with him for so long. Forgetting April, if he ever did, wasn’t going to be accomplished in a single day.
And yet it hurt. Michon had given him her body because she was ready to declare herself to him. Her surrender, her desire to make love, came because her heart was involved. Did he realize that? Was it impossible for him to involve his heart in what was happening between them?
The answers weren’t here, on the river. What the river offered was a distraction from her thoughts, the need to concentrate on practical matters. Even as they left Twickenham Bridge and drifted past Jennie’s Peak, reaching into the skyline, Michon realized that she was doing a lot more of the work of paddling than she had yesterday. Harry’s paddle barely skimmed the surface and there was little strength in his strokes. For a moment Michon thought seriously about telling Harry that it wasn’t going to work. She couldn’t keep up this pace for eight hours. But the impulse passed. She’d made a promise to Harry. And she had something to prove to herself that had to do with meeting a challenge.
“How are you doing?” Harry asked.
“Fine. It’s a good thing I believe in vitamins,” she laughed. “What if you serve as tour guide? Tell me what we’re looking at.” The look of dignity that had lived in her grandfather’s eyes was in Harry’s, stilling anything she might have said about the folly of what they were doing.
“That I can do, even if I can’t get my arm to move without it feeling as if it wants to take the top of my head off. Jennie’s Peak was named after Jennie Clarno. She was the first young girl to live in the area. She was about twelve when her parents moved here. The story goes that when she grew up she was going to marry a riverboat captain. Unfortunately the captain’s son showed up just before the marriage, and Jennie didn’t take too kindly to the idea that her fiancé had been married before and hadn’t told her. A year later she married a contractor named Robb but they only lived together for a few months. After that she moved to Portland and managed a hotel and kept house for her brother. After her brother committed suicide she returned to Clarno and built a ten-room hotel and rooming house. That strikes me as a rather grandiose project for this area. She turned her back on that venture after about two years. The hotel was torn down in 1928. That was the year Jennie died. Not a very romantic or uplifting story, I’m afraid.”
Michon nodded, feeling sympathy for the long-dead woman. At least Jennie had a peak named after her. But Michon was sure Jennie would have preferred happiness in her life to immortality in the form of a mountain peak.
As Michon concentrated on keeping up with Chas’s strong back in the canoe ahead of her, Harry told her about the early attempts to develop coal mines in the area. Her ears pricked up as they reached Red Rock, and Harry explained that the area was famous for its fossil beds dating back some sixty-six million years.
“I feel like I’m walking in the middle of history,” she said softly. “I wish I’d paid more attention to history when I was in school.”
“It’s never too late to learn,” Harry said over his shoulder. “Have you thought about going back to school?”
She hadn’t, at least not consciously. But as she fought to keep her thoughts away from the lead canoe she gave voice to the restlessness that had brought her to the John Day. “I don’t think I want to go back to my old job. In fact I’m sure I don’t. I went to college after high school, but—well—I guess I was eager to make my mark on the world. I’m ready to take another look at my future. I just wish I kn
ew which direction I should take.”
“You could work part-time and go to college. A lot of people do that,” Harry pointed out. “Don’t mind me. I realize that not everyone is as dedicated to the educational field as I am, but I don’t think we should ever stop learning. Michon, you’re young. If you don’t like what you’re doing, change it. It’s too late for regrets when you’re my age.”
Michon bit her lip. “You know what I’d like?” she laughed. “I wish I could lay my brain out in front of you so you could tell me what to do with it. It’s a pretty good brain, but it’s full of cobwebs because it’s not being used very productively. I don’t like what I’m doing for a living now. I love being with those teenagers. I love their enthusiasm for life. And this river.” She sighed. “I’m serious about wanting to learn more about history. The sense of history is so strong here.”
He laughed. “Do you know what you sound like?”
“What?”
“A teacher. Maybe a history teacher.”
“A teacher? Me? Harry, I don’t know the first thing about teaching.”
“But you don’t have any trouble relating to these students. That’s half the battle for a teacher. There are a lot who won’t touch teenagers with a ten-foot pole because they’re intimidated by kids. But teens are flexing their muscles, trying to figure out what the adult world is about. Half the time they don’t know what they’re doing and they appreciate anyone who can talk to them.”
“Don’t!” Michon gasped. “You’re giving me too much to think about in one day. I thought you were going to be my tour guide.”
“All right. But think about it. If you’ve already been to college, half of the battle is won, as far as getting your teaching certificate is concerned. And history isn’t just learning dates as it was when we were going to school.” Harry was silent a moment. “Pace yourself here. We’re going to get to Homestead Rapids in about forty-five minutes. That’ll develop the muscles if anything does.”